


The Lady

by minkmix



Category: Dark Angel (TV)
Genre: AU, Catholics, his life is bad in manticore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: AU- What if Alec had met Ben before his twin was discovered and sentenced him to half a year in Psy-Ops? Because it is set before Max gave Alec his name, in this fiction they are referred (mostly) by their designations. Alec= 494. Ben= 493. (I know most know, but some may not.)Violence- Very/to Slightly-AU





	1. The Lady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedRieven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRieven/gifts).



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"You're late 494."

The office was a lot like Manticore was. Stark, clean, and functional. Doctor Renfro was sitting behind her desk engaged in a quiet conversation in Japanese on her headset. It was a language he had picked up by lingering for little under an hour in a Seattle harbor side dive listening to the boat crews. He had never mentioned that he knew how to speak it fluently in his reports however. As always, there were little details like that which he liked to keep to himself.

Mostly for moments like this.

Renfro looked up at him sharply as she concluded her conversation with a phrase and series of numbers that he did understand but could not decipher. Codes within codes within codes. But he had caught a few choice things that had made perfect sense.

I heard you. He thought to himself. I heard an address and the name of a Hong Kong contact. 494 wondered what it would be like to say the thought out loud and then face the certain consequences. He also wondered how much the information might worth to someone on his next away.

She motioned him to come closer.

He could undo all his secrets just like that. Reveal every rebellious thought they never knew he had. That one declaration would have his status terminated. Annihilated. Or worse. It was fascinating what uttering one sentence to this woman could do. Maybe they didn't know exactly what he was capable of, but the level of caution and secrecy on every level never failed to get to him just a little bit. He fought the smile that wanted to come to his face.

Renfro was studying him intently as she lay her headset down on her desk. Her usual demeanor was slightly different. The subtle lines of worry that furrowed her brow were not something you witnessed often on this woman. Her phone call forgotten, he waited with interest to see what this would be exactly about. If he knew her like he thought he might, he knew he wouldn't have to wait long for her to get to the point.

"Last night, the entire outer security system went down."

He felt his eye brows raise before he could help himself. After the Pulse technology had never been quite what it used to be but Manticore was one of the few entities that never lost its funding and didn't suffer the tribulations the masses endured. Sure a glitch in the works every now and then, but a complete failure at the facility was virtually unheard of.

"Just before we lost all video feed, we captured the most interesting image from one of the perimeter cameras." She swung her chair around and with a tap on her desk top interface activated a series of close circuit monitors on the wall behind her. "We almost missed it but the third redundant trespass monitor was tripped just before we had a full blackout."

He shifted in his at ease position. He hadn't known there was a third system set up.

"The third trespass detectors installation and existence are classified." Renfro continued with a small backwards glance at him. "But to disable the first and second system, now, that would have to take quite a hack."

He already knew what she was alluding to. Whoever took down the system weren't just good, they knew how Manticore worked fairly well. A little too well.

"We only captured one frame."

The screens flickered onto a single image of a man taken from 6 different angles.

He blinked.

The image was dark but unmistakable.

"I told you..." Doctor Renfro swung back to look at him. "It's interesting, isn't it? According to barracks video records you were bunked down when this was taken. In fact, you were just entering 4th stage REM sleep.""

He wasn't sure why he felt so surprised or even to some degree, shocked. He had suspected there might be X5s that looked and sounded like he did. No one had ever told him if he had been cloned or twinned, or both. You didn't ask questions like that. So he had a brother. It was really strange, he thought, when and how you discovered things about yourself in Manticore.

"He went rogue almost a decade ago." She crossed her arms and sat back. "But it looks like X5-493 is back in town."

The issue was understood. "His location mam?"

"The hack was a good one." She sighed. "We only got the entire system back up within the last hour. My men traced his activity back across the southern perimeter and we have a missing vehicle."

494 listened doubtfully.

Outer security system down for almost 12 hours? An X5 can cover a lot of ground in a day. He silently calculated his own average foot speed and transportation variables in which one would need to conduct a command to search and retrieve. 12 hours. A search would be a futile attempt. That X5 was gone. But why had he even been here in the first place? When an X5 runs the last thing they do is ever show their face around here again.

"We are still reestablishing the perimeter just to be sure." She sighed in annoyance. "At 0800 I want you on his last known coordinates and track him."

"Yes, mam." He saluted and turned to leave.

"Oh and 494?"

He stopped.

"Exercise extreme caution."

"Mam?"

"The rogue X5s are... unpredictable."

Wondering at the warning, 494 exited the office and made his way through the series of identical looking corridors that lead back to his barracks.

It wouldn't be until morning that his mission would begin and he knew the reason there was no urgency. He figured Renfro expected to find an X5 around just as much as he did. If he was lucky he'd find some of the equipment the X5 had used to bring down the computer that ran the security fence. If he was really lucky maybe he'd find a sign of which direction the X5 had come in and out of the area so they could improve whatever weak spot that had been manipulated to slip in and out almost undetected.

He was still sitting on his bunk thinking when the shrill bell announced the one minute warning to lights out. With a sigh, he lay back on his bunk feeling for the first time in a long time, tired. Renfro's caution aside, another question sat on his mind and nagged at him. It didn't matter how good you were, hack or no hack, if you played around fire for too long you were bound to get burned. Why would a runaway X5 risk Re-Indoctrination?

Why had X5-493 come back?

 

 

He knew it wasn't time for revelry. His internal clock was set to his routine better than his issued all weather watch.

All the same, he had been awoken with the grind of his cell door and a slow mumble of a voice that sounded strangely familiar. One rub of his eyes and disentangling from his issued sheet and blanket, and there was a hand clamped hard over his mouth.

He froze recognizing a strength that could challenge his own.

Hazel eyes, just like his, stared down at him. The hard nuzzle of a pistol pressed down and under the flesh of his ribcage and into his stomach.

"We are leaving."

So his twin hadn't left Manticore grounds afterall. 494's limbs reacted before he even could will them not to. But despite their likeness, his brother's strength exceeded his own.

Left bloodied on the floor, the gun tapped him under the chin.

"Come on..."

The full blow of the kick to his ribs robbed what was left of his air. He found it hard to focus when the hand grabbed his collar followed by a closed fisted punch to his face. Dazed, his twin whispered instructions into his ear with their shared voice.

The grip on the base of his neck squeezed and threatened to crack it.

If he had ever learned anything, 494 knew when to listen.

 

 

He wasn't sure why he didn't jam his clone's plan when they left the barracks. Even with the muzzle of a firearm pressed up under his chin he still had options. It wasn't impossible to tip off one of the many armed guards they passed. One hand signal to a camera that he could have purposely not avoided. Maybe it was just his simple curiosity that ruled over protocol. Besides, what better way to secure a target than to just follow it until he had his best chance? By the time they reached the cover of the forest and no alarm had been raised, his wonder at why his twin was here and why became much more urgent than his standing orders anyway. But his twin, all in all, hadn't been quite forthcoming as to why he was doing what he was doing.

When 494 attempted to ask, he had found himself trying to regain his equilibrium from where he was suddenly laying on the cold damp leaf littered ground. He was rolled onto his face and handcuffed before he could even react. It was a good tactic to subdue your prisoner but leave room for mobility. Who wanted to carry someone when the only way to disappear was by foot?

And he knew his place in the plan at least. A prisoner. But why? 493 went through all this trouble just for him? And where exactly were they going?

Considering how long and fast they had been traveling he figured they were at least 75 clicks north by northeast of the Manticore access road by now. Maybe even more by the feel of the fine muscle tremors that had started in his legs. He hadn't moved this fast for this long since his initial endurance trials as a kid. 75 kilometers in a few hours was something even Lydecker might not even consider on a manhunt. Once again, with the wonders of Manticore technology, you discovered the true limit of what you were made of as soon as something forced you hard enough. Or someone.

The night woods were chill and damp. Cold wet branches whipped at his face and bare arms. Even with the low temperatures his thin gray T-shirt was soaked through with sweat. It would hurt him when they finally slowed down he knew, but for now he was just glad that he had never taken his boots off after lights out.

He stumbled over an exposed tree root but before his knee hit the forest floor strong hands grabbed his wrists and righted him. It wasn't easy moving this fast with his hands bound behind his back. He'd never had much practice at it since because he never let himself get caught. He was too good.

Unfortunately, his twin happened to be better.

X5-493 unexpectedly stopped them both.

He grunted as he was pushed down hard, the double handcuffs cinched tightly behind his back were briefly undone just long enough to secure him uncomfortably around the base of frost covered tree behind him. Uncomfortably seated, his body trembled from the sudden halt in his exertions, his damp shirt clinging to his skin and quickly going to clammy cold. Up above them through the bare black branches and pine, the overcast sky was turning a dull gray with the dawn.

"Did-hey did you know what the first thing was that ever had a barcode?" he inquired, the fog of his breath thick as he panted.

His brother was behind him, checking the cuffs work carefully, adjusting the metal binds until the strain on his arms hovered between pain and agony.

"A barcode," he asked again impatiently. "They haven't been around forever, do you know what they first used them on before anything?"

Oddly enough, 493 hazarded a guess.

"Most likely in hospitals. Or military ordinance."

"Huh." 494 considered these very reasonable answers before he replied. "No, no, the very first barcodes were used on-- ah! Easy there!"

Gritting his teeth, a tentative pull at his wrists and he knew at once that if he tried hard enough his efforts would only break bones. Maybe dislocate both shoulders while he was at it.

His clone had walked back around to face him.

"It-it was first used on packs of gum." he managed to finish. "Wrigleys. Like the old ballpark."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding." he sighed.

493, for all sakes and purposes, didn't appear like he had expected even though he had seen the frozen image captured on the Manticore surveillance network just like Renfro and her staff had. Of course he knew they shared identical features, but he had expected 493 to look harder, older, dirtier. How many years had he been walking around in the outside and he had managed to stay alive? Ten? Stay alive, hell, it looked like he had thrived. He wasn't in the rags he saw the city dwellers call clothes, he wasn't half gone from hunger or some communicable disease that you could get as easily as drinking tap water.

His twin's shiny black nylon jacket was spotless and un patched. His jeans looked new, an almost impossible task even if you had money and decent contacts in the city. His boots were muddy but kept in good condition, just like all the good little kids in Manticore had been raised to do.

493 probably didn't have the surgical markings of experimental procedures across his back and up onto the insides of his arms. 493 had never been brought back after a failed mission and left in solitary until they remembered to feed him again. This guy didn't have the multiple gun shot scars like he had up and down his torso. All the active X5s were masses of scar tissue and mended bone. How many years eating and drinking without the Manticore drug regiment did it take to become a normal human being? Ten sounded like more than a good round number to him. He laughed a little but it was only to himself.

Well, as normal as their kind could get anyway.

493's green eyes regarded him compassionately.

This is what he could have been. An unscarred man. Kept strong and able from his own victories, moving in the world with the efforts of a genetic superior among the mediocre. Not a tool, with its measured strength regulated by force and compliance, weakened and tempered by its makers by their mishandling of his body and mind so that he could better achieve a goal that never benefited him in the end.

The flash of envy startled him.

"There were three others."

He blinked up at his brother. It was strange to hear his own voice. Like listening to a recording, it sounded so different than what you heard inside of your own head.

"490, 491 and 492."

494 looked down again at the dark wet churned soil he was pushing with the heels of his combat boots. The muscles in his legs had stopped shuddering but now started to painfully cramp up.

Three more.

For having grown up in one facility all his life he knew about as much of what or who lived several feet away behind steel door as much as he did anything else. It was a hive of secrecy and control. You could live your entire life within those concrete walls and not know what was in every locked room or know just how deep the basement went.

"Have you seen them?" His twin asked softly.

"No."

"I looked, but I could-I could only find you."

"And here I am." He replied with a flare of indignance. "By the way, why am I here again?"

493's smile was like looking in a mirror but askew, like a warped pane of glass.

"You are going to help me."

494 stared up into his brother's eyes in confusion. There was something unhinged and unfocused behind the gaze that he should have knew. But there was something different in the man that had his exact DNA match. Something strange.

His twin walked several yards away to a mound of leaves that 494 recognized as a forest camo cover. They were commonly used to cloak equipment and weaponry in forest campaigns. At times, even solider's themselves. The tarp was pulled away in one swift motion causing a flurry of dead leaves to take to the air.

For a moment when the strong smell and the buzz of insects reached him, he thought his brother had uncovered an animal carcass. There were plenty of them out here, animals brought down by a coyote or bear, but when the thick blanket of flies lifted, he saw it was not some four legged prey.

It was human.

The rational solider that existed persistently at the back and sides of his mind catalogued it was an adult male, approximate weight and age, and plausible weapon method used. The uniform identified the victim as a police officer most likely from the highway that ran several more clicks north of Manticore property.

494 was no stranger to death and what it looked like. He was also no stranger to what excess of violence could be done to the human body. As an X5 operative he knew exactly how hard, and how long it was required to end life. His goal was to accomplish this end quickly and efficiently. One of his trainers had called it: Elimination with undue fuss.

But this body.... This was no assassination. This was no mere mission brutality. Completely dismembered, the body had signs of bruising and lacerations that he knew occurred before death. He wasn't certain but maybe even the dismemberments themselves. This was went beyond even what he had seen in the information gathering courses Manticore taught in Torture Theory.

This went beyond professional murder.

This was madness.

It was a vague wonder to him that his profession had actually brought him to the point where he could recognize the difference. But what was this body doing here?

His twin knelt down in front of him and smiled their smile.

"If you help me, we can make Her stronger."

He swallowed. "Her? Her who?"

493 nodded to himself and pulled out a wadded up piece of cloth from the inside of his leather jacket. He began to unroll it to reveal what was kept inside.

"Whoa guy, what the hell is that?!" He tried to keep the small waiver out of his voice but failed.

"This," 493 explained carefully,"...is what makes Her heart strong."

The gauzy material he held in two carefully cupped hands lay stained dark with old blood.  
It took 494 a moment to figure out exactly what he was looking at. His eyes widened.

Human teeth.

Within its folds were dozens and dozens of teeth. Most with flesh still attached, some cracked from whatever form of extraction had been used. 493 wrapped the bloody teeth back up before reverently putting them back into his jacket.

494 realized he might have been mistaken.

His twin brother wasn't exactly as put together as he looked. With one heaving breath into the frigid morning air, his wrists burning and raw in cold metal, he would have considered the alternative.

But he didn't have one.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite what he knew about the standard protocols for events such as these, he did have a vague suspicion at all times that no matter what the facts may seem to be, you could never really underestimate Manticore.

As long as you assumed they were really one step ahead of you instead of behind, you could be rest assured at the greater likely hood that you might actually be the one tentatively holding a few cards. It was a tricky methodology but it had served him well. More or less.

494 had listened all day for the telltale chop of helicopter blades or the much more subtle creep through the underbrush of Manticore soldiers, or the most elusive of all, the presence of other X5s sliding through the woods like ghosts.

But, surprisingly or not, there had been nothing. His brother had moved them so far and so fast that either Manticore was looking in all the wrong places or they hadn't started looking at all. He wondered why the thought didn't worry him or anger him. He knew he wasn't quite ready to go back. This wasn't over yet. And as unpleasant and bewildering as it was, he wanted to see it through to whatever end his brother had taken all this trouble and effort for.

There was no warmth from the unseen sun as it shined behind the cold rainfall only a few degrees from snow that dripped through the trees. The muscles of his arms and shoulders sang in pain from the efficiency of his binds. Even with his unnaturally high core temperature he shivered and trembled uncontrollably as his body fought and stayed hypothermia. Even with the lack of water or his daily regulated proteins, his makers had built him to withstand it all. Withstand and thrive. What would kill a man was something his kind could compare to discomfort. One of the finer benefits of being who he was, was being able to function throughout almost any unforeseeable situation or environment. He smiled to himself. Almost any unforeseeable situation.

He doubted any of the guys upstairs had counted on something like this.

494 had managed to doze as the sun slowly went down behind the dull white wash of the cloudy sky. His subconscious brain forcing him to conserve energy, a function that regulated his body better than he could have reasoned on his own. Strange flashes of dreams brought him in and out of the frigid damp of the forest in a dull lethargic daze. By the time he fully woke, he knew from the light that full dark was less than a quarter of an hour away.

Predictably, it was nightfall before they were on the move again. The stinging needles of pain that ran through his numb legs were welcome. His stiff joints warmed and ached as 493 pushed them to speeds that they had traveled the previous night. But unlike the night before, his brother had a destination in mind.

 

 

It was an old place, left over from way before the Pulse. He had heard at some point a long time ago that the land around here had been used for cattle and farming. Way before the military had taken it over it probably had been a real charming place. There were pieces of its former life left all over in the overgrown woods. Furrowed weed choked roads. Old sagging silos. Stone walls and toppled fence.

Dilapidated structures.

The smell of decay in the abandoned barn was so powerful he felt himself gag, its interior the true work of an X5. Neat, precise, a spic and span Hell. Not all madmen were messy. On the outside, 493 was a perfectly rational specimen. Just like the Nazis, he mused. He was lead carefully to a musty over stuffed chair bleeding its stuffing out one side, and shoved down into it. Despite the cloud of dust that rose around him it was actually pretty comfortable.

"Do you know what the great Chinese philosopher Sun Tzu said about the state of a man who lives within violence?"

494 honestly had no idea but he was sure it was going to be deep. Sitting awkwardly with his hands behind him, he compulsively tested the metal binds again knowing that with all the tricks Manticore had used to construct him, he still couldn't break carbon steel hinged handcuffs. His brother's mood felt different in here for some reason. So was his own. Out in the woods they had been alone but now he felt hidden, isolated and vulnerable. It made him more nervous and his brother more confident.

"He didn't use Western Greek terminology of course." 493 assured him. "The direct translation ruins it almost completely. Translations make mans' poetry into banal information."

"Yeah, I hate that." He agreed while he took in the exits and what he could see of the barn's layout. "I can't even read a takeout menu unless it’s in the original Mandarin--"

His brother crouched down in front of him, making him pause wearily.

"One, Way, two, Heaven, three, Ground, four, General, five, Law.  
The Way is what causes the people to have the same thinking as their superiors;  
they may be given death, or they may be given life..."

494 listened to the words flow memorized and slow from his twin's mouth.

"Heaven is dark and light, cold and hot, and the seasonal constraints. Ground is high and low, far and near, obstructed and easy, wide and narrow, and dangerous and safe. General is wisdom, credibility, benevolence, courage, and discipline." *

He grew quiet after the last word. Discipline.

494 tensed as his T-shirt was lifted. His twins finger tip examined the neat crisscross of scarring that had been left after surgery had removed shrapnel from most of the right side of his body almost exactly two years ago. Maybe if he had been un engineered they wouldn't have faded and settled on him like they had. The surgery was finely done and precise but not necessarily cosmetic.

"You have been dangerous." His brother murmured.

494 wasn't sure if he should respond to that so he didn't, deciding to be silent under the curious light touch. He glanced down at the handiwork across his skin that his brother was so intently studying. The doctors in the labs sure knew how to patch up their machines to get them back and up and running again. Some soldier’s out in the world added decoration to their war machines. Paint and words, promises and art of half naked women and flames. Nicknames on a helmet, lucky ace of spades on a flack jacket.

494 sometimes liked to think of his scars like that. Like those rows of cartoon like tanks he had seen painted on the noses of sleek deadly fighter jets. Each one marking a confirmed kill. Each one a badge and credit of accomplishment.

"The great Sun Tzu said, upon seeing a warrior that had lived his life in battle, the signs of honor could be read like a book by the marks of the sword across his flesh."

494 half smiled at the idea that they had both been thinking along a similar vein. Honor. Awkward word to use for an assassin but he took it and saved it away for his own anyway. Surely after courage and discipline there was some honor in what he was allotted in his given life. It was a nice thought at least.

"When you are like us," 493 explained. "You have the perspective of a surgeon."

"Huh?"

"Yes, when I see a wound I know exactly what it must have taken to cause it. I can see the savage nature of the act just as clearly as what is left behind long after the blood has been washed away, the wounds healed, the fear faded. Without that... without our gift, another man's pain is antiseptic and meaningless."

"Hm." 494 thought about that. "What about compassion? That's good too right--?"

”Yes.” His twin's hand stopped and he looked up at 494 hard. The set of his eyes were intense in satisfaction. "Yes, compassion is good."

494 blinked unsure why that particular word had such an effect on his brother.

"The Lady gives it to us." He nodded. "She's like a surgeon too. She knows the depth and effort to achieve true suffering."

The lady again. 494 had wondered if he had possibly meant Doctor Renfro but that was becoming less and less likely in his mind. When her name left 493's lips, there was ecstasy on his breath, a dazed sort of reverence heard only from believers or the insane.

It suddenly struck 494 as odd, the parallels between the two. Beliefs all carried the potential of pushing the borders of reality. When that happened, reality always pushed back.

He gave up and asked. "So who is she?"

"She protects us. Gives us what we need to survive. I serve Her. I'm the only one left." 493 said.

"Rock on." 494 gritted his teeth as his brother uncovered a thin brown leather case wrapped in dirty rags. He undid the rags and opened it, revealing an array of worrisome instruments.

"I wanted to give Her something. Something special. It'll be Christmas soon."

494 let himself chuckle at that. "You're crazy."

A fist exploded suddenly and violently into the stone wall next to his head, sending a shower of dust and grit over him. 494 coughed, eyes watering. From above, his brother spoke calmly and terribly.

"I can't give Her myself and continue my work." 493's face had darkened. The hard line of his anger for the first time, crystal clear.

It was then that his gaze fell on the chipped plaster statue that had been set in the corner. Arranged neatly in shadow, it was precisely placed on a wooden crate and surrounded by smaller identical figures like it. Hundreds of versions of the same iconic woman of Catholic mythology. The Blue Lady. It all suddenly made some sort of sickening sense.

494 swallowed.

"So I will give Her the closest thing I can."

494 fidgeted in his chair. "Uh oh."

"You."

494 sighed. "Yeah, I think we're finally on the same page pal."

 

 

 

There were several oil lamps lit that cast the barn into a hundred shadows. After the revelation on whom exactly the Blue Lady was, his brother had fallen silent once more. 494 watched him move around the space, building a small fire in an old wood burning stove and seat himself in front of it to stare into the flames. It was well into the night before he moved again. Unfortunately, he walked directly to the worn leather case he had left open earlier.

494 saw the look in his brother's eyes and readied himself.

493 slid a sleek syringe from his collection pushed it into a vial of clear fluid from an unmarked bottle. “Don’t fight me, it will only make it worse.”

“How can it be worse?” 494 genuinely wondered aloud as he watched his twin approach with the needle. Now what? After all he had seen of his brother's intentions, he doubted he was going out quickly and painlessly into the great good night like a sick pet. Nonetheless, he wasn't real interested in seeing how far and deep this sacrament was going to go.

493 slipped the syringe between his teeth as he knelt down, quickly and efficiently blocking the hard upwards kick 494 delivered straight at his jaw, and then twisting his fingers into a pressure point under 494's other knee to stop any more of the same.

“Ah!...” The electric sizzle of nerve pain flooded up his spine, hard enough to stun him for several seconds. More than long enough for his twin to kneel down between his knees and flick the needle twice before plunging it down hard into 494’s thigh.

He hissed, a wave of sickness flooded over him, deep and nauseating. His thoughts flashed on possible known poisons, or chloride compound that would stop his heart. He felt his head bob to his chest when it rushed up and clouded his eyes. “What was… what was that?”

His brother’s hands gripped his arms, tipping him forward until he slumped over, his cheek resting clumsily on 493’s shoulder. 494 fought to control his senses, his face pressed against the black nylon jacket. Hands reached around to his wrists, undoing the cuffs and letting his hands fall free.

494 willed back another wave of nausea that rolled in his belly. His arms and wrists were unfettered, he could act now, he could sum up everything he had and—

He couldn’t move.

A hand on his chest pushed him gently back into the chair.

“Wha-did-you-“

“Don’t try to talk.” His brother suggested kindly. “The Trance makes it difficult.”

Trance. It was a drug that was relatively recent addition to the street scene. 494 had been briefed about it along with all other current societal trends in his training. It was originally a derivative of a powerful sedative meant to dull surgery patient’s motor skills during post-op recovery. Some enterprising drug users had discovered that if you laced the stuff with some methylenedioxyamphetamine you had yourself one hell of a party. 494 was naturally tolerant to most narcotics but his brother had just dosed him with enough to get an entire club doped up for an all nighter. 494 shuddered as he tried to fight it, focusing on raising one fist. His hand trembled but didn't move, he wheezed, his breathing becoming more labored as the drug worked through his system.

"I'm so glad you're here." 493 confessed. "I never did tell you my name."

494 tried to move his tongue and mouth to respond but he felt detached, far way, floating just above the center of himself. The muscles in his arms and legs twitched from the chemical saturation.

"My name is Ben."

Ben? Where did he get a name from? Did he pick it out of a telephone directory? 494 felt his eyes flutter closed. His senses were dulled but his skin had become sensitive to every breath of air and slightest touch. The sensation of hands on him and the sounds of his movements flowed over him in each slow wave of his heart beat.

Slowly and carefully, each of his arms were raised and tugged out of his T-shirt. The fabric slid across the skin of his face, its soft texture running across his lips as it was pulled off over his head. Fingertips were soon working unhurried at the tight laces of his boots, pulling each string free before tugging them off his feet. He faded in and out, struggling to stay awake, struggling not to fall off the fuzzy edge he was teetering on in his mind.

The worn ancient cushion of the chair was dry and itchy on his bare legs as his twin slid his camo trousers off and began to neatly fold them in standard regulation form. Even down the side seam, over three times, and smoothed flat. They were set with the rest of his clothing in a neat pile. Just like Manticore had taught them.

He fell forward as his brother pulled him up again, bare knees hitting the gritty floor in a vague echo that should have been pain. He should have collapsed forward on to his face but 493 was there. Ben was holding him as he stood them both up. 494 felt a horrible defenselessness with the feel of his exposed skin against the warmth of his brother's clothes. The alien emotion quickly shifted to his only innate defense--rage.

"L-Let me go." 494 managed to make himself heard.

The embrace was strangely gentle and unexpected. The smooth nylon of his jacket smelled of the faint brush of pine sap, deep with the scent of damp soil and the metallic edge of winter. But here, resting again on his brother’s shoulder, mouth laying against the warmth of flesh between his twin's jaw and neck, under it lay the scent that 494 knew like his own bedding, or his own sweat. So familiar. So much the same.

The drugs dizzying fog shifted, his reality easing back into place. 494 tried to speak, once again struggling to move from his brother's arms. Ben let him fall away slightly so their hazel eyes could meet.

The word home had never had much meaning for him. But why hadn't he even been allowed to have at least this, this kinship of blood. It was cruel to have the knowledge that all it took was one skid on the genome, one misplaced digit on the equation to make him into more than a monster than he already was.

"I have to make you ready for Her." Ben whispered to him softly. "It has to be perfect."

 

 

On the first day he knew Her, he knew pain.

494 had thought he had been made acutely aware of his body's limitations in the past. How much exposure, how much torture he could realistically endure. He had been wrong.

The first thing he felt seared his bare skin. Boiled water splashed over his torso from a rusted aluminum kettle. Instantly his body recoiled, movements limited and strained. Figured. He gritted his teeth against it, tasted blood when the scalding moved down his thighs, ankles and feet. Through a cloud of steam he saw his face.

The pain was so great the first time he did not even question where he was.

Softly, he heard his brother speak.

"People have lost the art of ceremony. Nothing is done with grace anymore. It's all ugly, base and wrong. But you will be perfect."

He rubbed ointment over his skin, soothing the slow burn, dried him with a cloth. Carefully. The heat was harmful but it would not end him, weakened though he was.

"We're the Apollos of our time. Has God ever been offered a God? Wonder what She'll say?"

"Stop." Was all 494 could say before his eyes closed again.

On the third day he knew delirium. Sounds and sights not to be trusted. Water was given which he rejected. He was cleansed again. Dragons rose from the steam, wispy and dark, scaled bodies hovering over his. He saw them behind closed eyes. Felt scalding breath on his skin.

On the fourth he thought he heard a woman singing softly out beyond the barn doors, a voice rising and falling from somewhere in the nearby forest. From where he lay shuddering on the floor, he watched the silent fall of snow as it floated past the dusty windows.

On the fifth day he saw Her face.

A pock-marked gypsum smile, worn by the elements. Tarnished with human oil. Her features whispered of finer detail, an empty stare slashed by frantic felt tip marker strokes blackening Her line of vision.

494 lay in Her cold arms, in Her neglected garden. An abandoned landscape of tilted head stones, broken glass and the rusted bones of machines that had been left to rot in the weeds. The barn wasn’t far off, its tattered roof visible just over the rise of the pines. Was this why his brother had chosen this place? Somehow his brother had found a cracked effigy of his Lady, a monument here in the wilderness. He made to reach up to touch the alabaster face of the statue that gazed down mutely at him, but his limbs had been bound once again.

"Two more days." Ben assured him.

494 closed his eyes as a snow flake drifted down from the white sky and landed on his pale cheek.

Seven days until the day of rest.

He hoped he could make it that long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Kir. <3

494 had always been a quick learner.

He attributed this to his unnatural makeup, par for the course for an advanced life form. Nonetheless, privately he thought the wonder his Manticore researchers exhibited towards him was unwarranted. Retention was easy. They didn't admire their computers for doing what they were designed to do did they? It was concepts that really mattered and something he knew well enough about himself was that he didn't always quite grasp the true meaning behind all the data he was fed. For instance, he had never really taken to the concept of belief. It was easier merely to appraise the outcome of it. War. Cathedrals. Cities. Books. Even art.

In a way, he felt he should thank his brother for his efforts. This education was much more effective than any dim classroom with a video feed. His first lesson was humility. Suffering was a suitable language for the metaphysical.

It was better not to fight cold. In training they were taught that heat expended by shivering should not be wasted. Though he could not help the involuntary spasms that took him at night when the wind howled and the snowflakes melted one by one on his bare skin. He knew that if one simply did not believe in being cold, one was not cold. Give in to the chill and it settled within you, cut your body from your mind, stopped the shakes. Pain worked in similar ways.

He found it incredible that after all the gifts he'd been given, here in the thick of things, the mind would still be his salvation. Even humans, simpler and less refined than he, had this ability. The gift of delusion. Somehow belief gave all living creatures strength to endure.

Though he would have preferred to learn this lesson in a church. Not in Her arms.

Faith had harmed Ben, damaged his reasoning, destroyed any scrap of humanity he had ever invented for himself. He was going through the motions, pouring love into a faith that desired blood.

Or maybe the blood was all him. Not his Lady's desire at all.

"Know what you look like?" Ben's voice was soothing, arms folded across his chest. "The Pieta. The dying lamb."

Even after it all, he again had to smile a little bit at the strange synchronicity. They had both been thinking of the art in this. The beauty of the extreme. The true perfection of anything, even suffering, was something to marvel at and admire.

"W-What was that..." 494 stammered, willing his mouth to form the words coherently enough to be understood. "What was that about …about compassion again?”

Soft laughter.

"There is no God of mercy. Mercy is the providence of man. Man that forsakes Her. They will beget only suffering,"

"Yeah, yeah, I noticed." 494's breath steamed in the wind.

 

 

Sunday had arrived. Some internal measure of his own knew it even if he had no means to confirm it.

He groaned. Without opening his eyes he knew he was indoors once again. The musty rot of the barn and the sharp crackle of wood burning in the iron wood stove replaced the frigid silence of the bone yard. It was the first time he had felt warmth in days. The hard planks of the floor under his back were a respite from the stone that had cradled his body all week long. He had also been given back some clothing.

494's hands explored himself, letting the wonder at why he wasn't bound again fade as he realized the garments he was wearing were not his own. The ceiling came in and out of focus as he tried to open his eyes. A jacket had been put on him, and his fingers trembled on the waist and feel of denims jeans.

He heard his brother whisper.

"It's time."

494 groaned again when he felt the sting of another needle in his flesh, not from pain but the dread of the effects of the narcotic had had on him for so many days. But instead of the sickening lurch of confusion, he felt his heart rate increase and a static spread across his skin like electricity. He experimented with his fists and found his motor control suddenly and swiftly returning.

"Stand up."

494 took a deep breath, expecting his arms and legs not to obey him, but to his bewildered surprise, he righted himself, and shakily stood. He swayed on his feet, noticing for the first time that the boots he wore weren't his either. The shiny nylon black jacket. The jeans. A black T-shirt. He looked down at the clothing that fit him so well.

Even the feel of his boots. They were broken in as if he'd been walking in them for weeks.

He looked to his brother who now stood in the barn's open door way.

Ben gazed back at him. The gray and black camo of his trousers had been cleaned and pressed, the regulation gray T-shirt the same. Issued combat boots were polished and neatly laced.

For a moment, 494 had a dizzying conviction that somehow 493 hadn't just exchanged their clothing, but everything else besides. The drug pumped through him. With every second that passed he felt his functions return. His heartbeat was thudding violently in his chest. Adrenaline, he was sure of it. The stuff coursed through him like fire. Clearing his mind, unclouding his eyes, and making all his pains distant and unimportant. You could run all day on broken legs under chemical magic like this. His brother clearly wanted him to function no matter how crippled he might actually be.

"Are you ready?" Ben asked him sincerely.

"Ready for what?"

To die? To pray? Light some candles? 494 honestly had no idea how this dance was supposed to go. His hands felt at something metallic hanging in his shirt and pulled it free. A small charm with the likeness of the Lady hung from a chain around his neck.

“You have 15 minutes.” Ben gestured to the forest behind him. “If you are able, arm yourself as well as you can. I’ll be right behind you.”

So that was how he wanted it. After all of this, after so many days of this lunacy, 494 felt himself start to slip. “You sure you want to do this?” He realized he had started smiling.

Ben nodded, the mirror of the grin reflecting right back at him.

494 felt his hysteria falter as he realized that just at the moment they might really look identical in all senses of the word. Both calmly maniacal and ready to end this. 494 tapped at his newly found undulled rage, like pressing on a paper cut.

“I don’t know what you’re used to hunting, but you’ve been away from Manticore for a real long time.” He told his twin carefully.

"I have Her on my side." Ben explained. "So go ahead, run."

494 felt his smile return and before he could help it he laughed, deep and hard, leaning backwards a little towards the ceiling.

Ben cocked his head in genuine confusion. “What’s so funny?”

494 leveled his gaze back him, his hands flexing and tightening into fists. "I'm not the one that's going to be running."

It had to be the best feeling in the world when Ben’s smile died and was replaced with an odd mixture of worry laced with the simmer of his anger. 494 resisted the urge to ask what old Sun Tzu might have had to say about releasing and enabling your enemy.

“You can have a head start if you want?” 494 winked.

 

 

 

He felt the ground, noting the texture of the terrain. The soil was hard from the climate drop, sub zero temperatures leaving the surrounding woodland unstable with hidden patches of ice or mud. His largest concern depended on whether or not his brother was as familiar with the area as he was. His second largest concern was how long his body would keep going until it burned out on the adrenaline he’d been given.

Prey.

494 felt his lip curl at the thought, teeth gritted hard. 494 had been ready right there, he was going to finish it with his life if need be. The unanticipated powerful contacts of his closed and open hand strikes had sent Ben skidding across the leaf littered floor.

Ben hadn’t liked that too much.

He had refused to play the game and instead of calling the game off, Ben had just changed the rules. 494 wouldn’t be cooperative? That was fine, 493 could make him play. There had been a moment, after the initial surge of his body’s power, where 494 felt the pain laying underneath the drugs. He knew what waited after the uncertain limit to his borrowed strength was reached. After what he had endured, he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever.

Ben knew it too and was decidedly unhappy with the prospect of a level playing field with someone who wasn’t willing to run and hide. So, instead of coming back at him, Ben had done exactly what 494 had suggested.

He turned around and vanished into the forest.

“Damn it.” 494 growled. There was no way he was leaving this unfinished no matter how uneven a match it would turn out to be.

His brother wanted an effigy to be hunted. A sacrifice. Ben took prizes but he wasn’t getting one this time. 494 tugged at the clothing he wore, disgusted by it. Even with his reflexes and stamina reduced, he would let his twin understand that he wasn't going anywhere until Ben learned a little about what 494 thought of his new found understanding of belief.

Of course, there was no sign of his brother. His sharp eyes scanned the endless maze of evergreens, instantly analyzing and assessing his surroundings. Above and below. In the trees.

The trees.

If he could just get to higher ground he could better rely on his senses to do the rest. He could hunt his hunter.

 

 

Most of hunting was the wait.

Years of the ways of assassination. Years of stealth. Years of Manticore Ben simply never had, might work to 494's advantage. Failing that there were always ideas. Run out of ideas and the game is over. Ben had obsession and madness fueling him, 494 worked with tenacity and a vivid imagination.

It had been just a matter of time before Ben had moved almost silently into the area. The sounds of his passage undetectable to most, but not to his twin. 494 almost couldn't believe his luck that the snow had shifted to the near freeze of rain, the sound of it covering him almost completely when he dropped quietly down behind his twin.

494 let himself experience satisfaction that he would now take him completely by surprise, he would snap his neck like a stick and send him right back to his Lady up on High--

His back hit the forest floor, knocking the breath from his body. Swiftly he rolled left, narrowly missing the downward kick his brother sent down to where his throat had just been.

So much for surprise. Ben had been aware of his location after all.

It was a wonder and credit to Manticore that perhaps even a decade out of their hands their soldiers could still perform as if they had never left. His brother still had every idea what it meant to go head to head with another X5. He was even holding back just a little. 494 could tell. His twin wanted to prolong his game, an incapacitated X5 could only last so long. The drugs that had gotten him back on his feet weren’t meant to last. This fight would be rough even if he was at full speed, but like this, 494 didn’t stand a chance in open hand to hand.

Fighting his grin, 494 knew exactly what to do. Ben might remember how to fight an X5 but he had never fought X5-494 before.

His brother launched himself at him again, three strikes to 494's vulnerable pressure points. Instead of ducking them as he could have, 494 took the full brunt of it and stumbled backwards against a tree. The unexpected and ungraceful move did exactly what he had predicted. It made Ben pause. It made Ben reassess his next move.

Bracing himself, 494 waited for the next series of blows. The frozen ground was at his back once again. He made to block but did it clumsily and haphazardly. He used enough skill to save his own life, but not to ward off the barrage as he knew he could. With each fluid strike of Ben's hands he felt bone crunch, with each sharp kick he saw his own blood fly.

A dizzying full contact punch to his face and he slumped down limply into the churned up soil, bloodied and battered. There was something else years of Manticore had given 494 that he knew Ben hadn't learned out in the big wide world. Whether or not his keepers had intended to or not, they had taught 494 quite a bit about the terrible business of biding time. They had unwittingly tutored him in true patience.

Ben considered him before he appeared satisfied that this hunt had gone on long enough. He lowered his fists and nodded down to him.

There was an art to taking so much that you didn't think you could take one more single god damn thing. But you did. You had no choice. If he couldn't count on his body he could always count on that quiet muted flood of frustration and rage that he kept pent up day after day after day. A lifetime of Manticore had taught him how to wait through anything.

Ben looked down to his belt, unbuckling the large bowie knife he had not yet seen fit to use.

494 moved.

He felt the satisfying contact of his fist landing up under 493's jaw. Ben staggered backwards, the unexpected strike providing the opportunity his weakened twin needed. Finally on the offensive, 494 let the machine he was take over, dropping the guise of his helplessness like a cloak. The power in his limbs came unrestrained. The brutal strength went unchecked as he flowed and moved without thought or consideration. The blur of his body went unhindered until he no longer felt any resistance from his opponent.

By the time he stopped, he knew it was over.

Ben lay panting painfully on the ground in front of him. One eye swelling shut, the side of his head red and wet with blood, his lip split, knuckles scraped and raw. Probably several broken ribs and undoubtedly defense fractures in his arms.

494 fought to catch his breath while he used his sleeve to wipe at a trickle of blood that had pooled above his lip from his own broken nose. After seven days of torture he had still managed to reduce his perfectly healthy twin into this. He had a wave of nausea at the sight of his brother, his hands beginning to tremble, splattered with blood that came from the both of them.

Ben watched him wearily, fear flashing in his eyes, his panic as uncontrolled and frenzied as the surges in his madness.

494 watched him, the edge of his exhaustion fighting with something else flashing in his head that wasn't fading away. The rage that had fueled his body flooded his vision and turned it white. Who exactly had been driven more insane he wondered? Ben out on the world with his Lady or himself, deep and safely cocooned in the belly of Manticore? Maybe neither of them won the contest. If they were perfectly and utterly alike then they were also equals as monsters. One on a short Manticore leash and one roaming the world like some waking nightmare. His gaze flickered to a rock that lay near by. It was jagged and heavy, the size of his brother’s skull…

494 lifted the stone from the damp soil. He stood over Ben, raising the rock over his head.

“Tell the Lady I said hi."

A noise.

He swung around, so consumed with the fight that he had somehow not heard a thing until the simultaneous click click click of semi auto weapons sounded around him. There were ten of them. Forest camouflaged Manticore regular infantry.

494 dropped the rock in stunned disorientation. It took several seconds for him to come back to himself and even remember why they might be there in the first place. The armed men were studying him intently, the buzz of their hand held radios whispering Manticore code commands. The search and recover was for X5-493. So they finally had tracked them down.

“I never thought I’d say this..." 494 had to stifle the strange laugh that threatened to erupt from him. "…but where the hell have you been-“

Ben weakly pushed back and dragged himself away backwards from him.

“I-I’m clear!” He called out to the Manticore soldiers.

No.

494 froze.

He looked at the gray issued camo Ben was wearing and suddenly realized with a sinking feeling what would happen next.

494 fell sideways and away anticipating their aim, the first, second and third bullet slammed into his shoulder and chest instead of in the heart as they had targeted. By the time he had hit the ground and rolled to the right he was already moving through the foliage. He could hear more of them in the surrounding forest cover, there were too many of them, he'd never get through their formation. Three more bullets exploded against a tree next to him, and then another one-two-three-four bullets took him out just above his knees.

“Hold! Hold yer fire!” Someone commanded.

The synthetic adrenaline mixing with his natural flow helped him get him back up one more time before his body gave up without his permission. He could only use one good arm to try to sit himself up, his legs twitching from the deep muscle wounds in his thighs. 494 fell back face first onto the ground knowing that he was rapidly going into shock. One of the bullets had collapsed his right lung. He gasped as it started to become more difficult to draw in air.

“Is it alive?” Some one asked in annoyance.

494 was rolled onto his back. His vision swam sickeningly, his limbs slowly going numb. He wondered vaguely if his leg wounds had ruptured any major arteries.

“Yeah, he’s alive.”

“Get the medic over here an' keep him that way. We got to load him up, Renfro wants him breathing.”

494 stared up at them, unable to take in enough breath to speak.

Ben was standing amongst them. Looking down at him, his bloody shirt and his bruises spreading like a sunset across the swollen flesh of his face. The grin they had shared was back.

494 had to admit he understood the Manticore guard’s collective mistake. Ben did look like a perfect X5 solider.

 

 

 

It was disconcerting that the sight of these stark white walls actually gave him some comfort. He had mused that the term 'home' had never had any meaning for him but in its own ways, good or bad, if he had one, this was it. Ironic that familiarity would have any sentiment for him at the moment. Casting the thought aside, he tried to focus on the conversation that was going on above his head.

“Mam, during the surgery, we noticed....” The medic cleared his throat. "...an oversight."

Like a mechanic that takes pride in a car, they always recognized their own work. 494 felt a strange measure of relief. He had wondered how long it would take for them to figure out what had happened out there in the woods.

Doctor Renfro studied the clip board that had been handed to her. Her expression darkened as her eyes flashed over the information written there. She turned her attention down to 494.

“So I guess you didn’t run after all.” She half smiled, but there was no humor in it. “When they told me X5-494 had vanished from the convoy, I have to admit, I was a bit taken aback.”

So Ben, in his guise, had taken off. Big surprise.

494 watched weakly as a lab technician slid another needle attached to an IV into the inside of his strapped down arm. His shoulder was on molten fire, every nerve frayed and singed if he made the merest move. He had overheard them say his collar bone was shattered which explained why his upper body was firmly placed in a brace and set in traction. His legs were elevated on the hospital bed, his thighs encased and wrapped carefully in gauze. How long he had been under the knife getting patched up one more time, he wasn’t sure. Soon to be good as new with a brand new set of scars to wear.

“Did you have fun out there in the woods with your brother?” Doctor Renfro asked.

Even if he didn’t have a plastic mask taped across his mouth and a breathing tube snaked down his throat, 494 knew better than to answer her. He had no choice but to lay still and wait. The steady hum and read of the machines connected to him and the slow hiss of the ventilator were a repetitive cold comfort to remind him that he had somehow survived.

Renfro leaned down over him, her voice was low and flat.

“I’m forced to wonder 494, why you left with him in the first place.”

494 wondered that too.

The Doctor addressed the awaiting lab techs.

“When he gets all better, make sure to set him up in a restraint cell in Psy-Ops.” She said flipping the metal clip board shut. “If we can’t get a good study on X5-493, he’ll do just as well.”

494 squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’ll like it there.” She assured him. “It’s nice and quiet.”

He felt a sickening race of anxiety under his sedatives. The Psychology and Operations department was not a branch of Manticore he had any desire to experience. Seemed Manticore still had some things left to teach him. In fact, they never seemed to run out.

"We can get to know you better.”

Doctor Renfro saw the look in his eyes when he opened them again. Oddly enough, she smoothed back his hair from his bruised face with a gentle hand. Her eyes regarded his own thoughtfully.

“We’re going to find out everything that's going on in that head of yours."

494 closed his eyes again. He was so tired.

The noise and lights of the room began to fade. As he slipped into the blissful numb gray of sleep, he thought of Ben. He wondered where he had gone and where he may be going next. He imagined him moving alone through the mountain passes until he found a service road and relieved some poor soul of their car. He envisioned his brother walking unnoticed and anonymous down a city street at night. Just like everybody else.

He could conjure the face of the next unsuspecting man who would be wearing a medallion of the Blue Lady around his neck. 494 saw his blood run and his wide lifeless eyes. One after another after another. He could see it as easily as the men he himself would end in the dark, in their beds, in alleyways, just as soon as Manticore deemed him fit to resume his duties.

From his recent brutal lessons in certainty, he knew if he could ever believe in anything, that he himself and his brother would continue on like they always had. It was why they had been made.

In that, at least, he could keep faith.


End file.
